Tanya: Sense Motive 1d20 + 12 = 31



"It sounds to me like Ulysses was right about you and your poisons, Marl. Won't make use of the boar, unhappy with the weapons you have, scared of what an old man might do. What's next, we need a good night's sleep before we do anything?"

Ulysses: Knowledge (Local) 1d20 + 0 = 2

After listening and considering, as is his wont, Ulysses clears his throat, rising from his seat and tossing his hair back.

"This squabbling is pointless, Tanya. I can think of few flaws in Horace's plan, and if all goes well, we can move against them soon, from a much stronger position."

Ulysses: Diplomacy: 1d20 +7 = 26

Everyone has fallen silent to listen to him.

"I may not remember this Harper from my youth, but I know men and their fears. If it comes to it, Sicarius and I will deal with him."

His dark eyes flick to the abrasive woman one final time. "You will not speak to my mother in that tone again."

Ulysses: Intimidate: 1d20 +3 = 19

His glare lingers a moment longer, and then shifts to Felix, briefly, finally addressing the man's words. "A fine idea, if we wished to go into battle with blunt feders and wooden wasters. Alas, I prefer keen, hardened steel, if this Harper is even smith enough to forge it. We'll see, I suppose."

Ulysses looks to Felix with a quizzical eye, but elects not to pursue the question.

Tanya: Sense Motive 1d20 + 2 = 10



Something about Ulysses' support of the plan — at least, something about it after Tanya had taken a moment to look his sturdy form — seemed to soothe her qualms with it, enough that she didn't add another argument.



Tanya: Sense Motive 1d20 + 2 = 19



Though the remark concerning Marl was another matter entirely. "Maybe if you acted like you had the least bit of respect for the woman, others would follow suit. Or at least be more interested in your opinion on the matter."

The soldier draws a deep breath. "While I may not always agree with her methods, I will not accept that there is a sharper, cannier woman in Archon than Iron Marl. I submit to her leadership of... whatever it is that we are."

The old woman sighs heavily from across the room. "We're wasting time on this, it's nearly dusk. If we're going to strike, it has to be soon. Let's decide who's doing what." She eyes them each in turn. "I know best what we need, so I'll be spear-heading, we need a look-out and muscle to carry the haul back here."

"I'll be taking Sicarius on an evening jaunt around the village," Ulysses confirms. "Suspiciously close to the blacksmith's home. If any unexpected surprises head our way, I'll do what I can do ward them off."

"Maybe I'll take a look through Lanius' stuff while we're there, see if I can't dig up some dirt." Horace is desperately attempting to contribute.

Felix addresses Ulysses, sounding slightly more serious than he has for most of the 'meeting.' "I can keep a look out well enough. It might serve everyone better if you were at the armory. I have no skill with weapons, and wouldn't know what was worth taking."

"So, you'd like to take Sicarius then?" Ulysses is somehow at once serious and mocking of the waifish man.

Felix looks puzzled for a moment. "If you want to bring the horse for certain...if the animal is amenable I suppose I could." Felix has never ridden a horse before, though provided he doesn't have to do much more than stay on, it might not be too much of a problem.

Ulysses leads Felix outside as Marl discusses the plan with the others. He snaps his fingers as he clears the doorway.

"Sic. Rise."

And like a damned revenant, the beast does, from its indolent position rolling uncannily into full upright posture.

"This is Felix," he says to his companion. And with a glance back at the man, "He can understand simple speech."

Ulysses comes to stand before Sicarius, meeting the warhorse's strange blue eyes. "We've bloody business to attend tonight, and he's to be our watchman. I want you to protect him."

There is no affectionate pat, no affirmation of devoted friendship. They both know the premise of this relationship, and there is a grim sort of respect between soldier and steed.

Charisma: 1d20+4 = 18

"I...see," Felix responds to Ulysses' comment, taking in the large and malevolent seeming animal. He walks towards Sicarius but does not move to touch him. "Fascinating."

"I have not ridden apart from simple travel. Will that be a problem?" It is not clear if Felix is addressing Ulysses or Sicarius.

Sicarius: Will: 1d20 + 2 = 15

I See Thee, Thou Furtive Child, And The Strangers In Thy Wake. They Whisper, Doth They Not? They Suggest. Tempt And Tantalize The Wondering Mind. And Who Art Thou To Refuseth? What Art Thou? These Are Questions I Shall Know.

I Acquiesce.

Felix stops all movement suddenly.

That was...louder than...usual?
...I wouldn't call that simple speech.

"Sicarius...how did you come by the name?" Again, it isn't certain who Felix is addressing, but he looks slightly over his shoulder at Ulysses.

"He's killed more men than me, which is an accomplishment," Ulysses says with a tone of unsettling indifference. "But you should be safe. He reasonable, for a horse."

He Hath Named Me 'Murderer', In Commiseration Of Our Mutual Crimes. Yet Mere Death Be But The Means To Far Greater Ends. I Am The Harrowing Stormtide, The Engine Of All Havocs, The Summer-Throned Emperor Of Ruin.

Or A Delusion In Thine Infected Mind. Seizeth My Reins And We Shall Determine What Is Truth Together.

Felix should perhaps feel more unsettled than he is. Whether the voice is the horse or something else, the budding warlock is thoroughly intrigued now. He smiles, a little.

"I think I'm looking forward to working with Sicarius."

By the time they get settled on the plan and on the move to carry it out, the sun has set and a new moon's night has fallen, casting the familiar avenues of the village in an eerie darkness. It is still and quiet as they make their way north to the smithy, with no sign of either patrolling guards or other townsfolk who might sound the alarm.

It is not a long walk to Harper's home, and they arrive in good time, gathering around his gated yard while Felix takes Sicarius a ways away to keep watch.

"I'll take a look inside really quick, wait here," Horace whispers to the others, stepping lightly up to the house.

Horace:

Move Silently: 1d20 + 8 = 9 (Critical Failure)
Hide: 1d20 + 8 = 11

Harper:

Listen: 1d20 + 2 = 10
Spot: 1d20 + 2 = 13

Scampering off with practiced ease, Horace goes to vault the gate, only for the toe of his boot to catch catastrophically on the lip of the fence as he clears it, sending him crashing to the earth with a yelp. He immediately bites his lip and rolls right under the house's window, hoping Harper won't notice.

He notices.

"WHAT'RE'YE ABOUT?!" Even muffled by the stone and glass between them, the fury in the smith's voice is palpable. Within seconds, he emerges from the doorway with a two-handed mace in hand, restrained from a murderous charge only by the number of assailants occupying his yard.

He clutches the weapon in a posture of imminent violence, but does not make any move yet.

Tanya: Bluff 1d20 + 1 = 3



Without even a second of thought, or so much as looking at the rest of the group to see if anyone else had any idea of what to do, Tanya cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Harper! There's a horse on the loose! You seen it!?"

"God damn it, boy, are you serious!?" Marl's castigation can barely clear the air before Harper flings the door open, menace smoldering in his eyes.

Rushing to the edge of the fence, hands up and pleading, "Harper, wait, it's Marl. Calm down!"

Marl: Bluff 1d20 + 7 = 17

Harper: Sense Motive 1d20 +4 = 20

"I don't know what ye're about, but, the words are snarled through clenched teeth, his eyes darting between each of them. "But if y'don't clear off my property right now, I'll brain this little bastard right here. Leave!" He brandishes the mace at them, indicating Horace with a jerk of his head.

Harper: Intimidate 1d20 + 3 = 10

Tanya: Sense Motive 1d20 + 2 = 7



"Aw fuck, Marl was right about him!"

Marl: Sense Motive 1d20 +8 = 16
Ulysses: Sense Motive 1d20 +1 = 9
Horace: Sense Motive 1d20 +5 = 24

"This was a terrible idea. Harper! Let's say we all leave, and forget this happened." Ulysses is fully convinced the smith will kill Horace with the first excuse he gets.

But from his prone position, Horace interjects, "He kills me, he's dead the next second! Tell him, Lady M.!"

Normally, caution would override heroics on her part, but they're already deep in the mire here, and they need those weapons. Marl draws her saber and steps through the gate. "You touch that boy, I'll slit your goddamned throat, Harper. And aye, this is what it's come to. Don't think I won't."

Marl: Intimidate: 1d20 +7 = 25
Harper: Sense Motive: 1d20 +4 = 20

The smith's glare strives to destroy Marl through mere hateful expression, but after a second, he relents with a growl, lowering his weapon.

"Just what the devil do ye want? Here to rob me?"

Listen = 18
Spot = 6


Felix face-palms at the orchestra of ineptitude going on behind him, but despite not paying visual attention at that moment, there is no mistaking the loud, drunken singing of the wannabee fop coming from up the road. Oh, perfect.

Sicarius: Listen 1d20 + 2 = 10 vs. DC 6
Sicarius Spot 1d20 + 2 = 10 vs. DC 10

Delver. Aspirant. Hearken. A Soul Approacheth. The Scion Of Yon Artificer, If Common Scent Be Of Aught Significance. Thou Wert Charged To Warneth Of Intrusion, Pray Do So. This Flesh Lacketh The Artifice For Baser Speech.

**************************************

Horace tentatively rises to his feet, keeping a frightful eye on Harper's mace. For all his bravado in the face of imminent death, he does not cherish the thought of being beaten to death.

The smith makes no move to assail him, however.

"It ain't robbery if you agree to help us, Harp." Marl still holds her saber, either not trusting the smith to remain docile, or to ensure that he does. "You know as well as any this has gone far enough. They've got to go."

"What are ye? Five? An old woman, this blundering dunce, and a couple young folk that might account for a guard or two between them. I'm not for hanging when they find out I armed ye. Y'want steel, ye'll not have it with Harper's blessing." The smith sighs bitterly. "But I can't rightly fight ye off, either. 'specially not that big bastard y'got there. That yer boy, Marl?"

His question goes ignored. "If you're trying to stall 'til help shows up, it ain't happening. Open the forge, Harp. Get this over with. Once we're done with Casper, I'll even pay you back."

"Hell, I'll give anything I take off that rotten lump of a man," Tanya chimed in, a nasty grin on her face as she toyed with a loose curl of hair by her ear. She, apparently, had already gotten over her fear of the man mere moments before. That, or she was doing a better job of hiding it than she'd done of lying. "That'd be grand, wouldn't it?"

Spot = 22 (Nat 20)


Lanius' drunken attempt at a song preceding him, Felix searches the dark for a glimpse of the blacksmith's son, hoping to see if there is anything he might take advantage of to stall the young man on his way back home.

"What do you think Sicarius?" He says, quietly. "How do we stall him?"

Felix has his own idea, but none that involve the horse, and he doubts Ulysses would approve of him leaving the horse behind, or walking him across town.

Such Fine Manners To An Earthbound Beast. If Thou'lt Draweth His Attention, I Shalt Apprehend This Wayward Son.

The unearthly horse moves a small distance away, not trusting his bulk and weight to keep him hidden for long, even in this deep darkness. Even to a drunken fool.

Sicarius: Hide 1d20 + 21 = 17
Lanius: Spot 1d20 - 3 = 6

Distract him...what are you planning to do?

Lanius walks and sings, using both terms generously, still toting a wine bottle in one hand.

Keeping in the dark, Felix thinks of a little trick he learned in his early readings. Probably not 'little' given where I found it. Speaking a single, unearthly sound that can barely be called a word, he focuses on the wine bottle, and it shatters.

If a bolt of lightning had struck the young man, he could not have leapt in greater fright. A wild, horrified wail escapes Lanius as he stumbles back, but it is quickly overborne by the sound of a ton of violent muscle churning the ground in a rapid advance.

A full scream rings out as Sicarius bears down on Lanius, or rather, just near him, the horse skidding to a halt to lean down and snatch the poor dolt about his shirt-collar with unyielding teeth.

Sicarius: Grapple 1d20 + 9 = 27

Too terrified to struggle, Lanius is hauled down the road, past Felix, whom his eyes catch in horrified bewilderment before Sicarius carries him away. His breath comes in frantic gulps, which transition to a pained moan as the horse lets go and shoves him to the ground at Ulysses' feet.

There was a distant shout, a stretch of silence, then approaching hoof-beats that made Tanya stiffen where she stood. "What," she croaked, having turned to see the approaching man-carrying-horse trotting out of the darkness, "is that beast of yours doing!?"

She all but lept away and stumbled back into the blacksmith's fence when Sicarius moved past her, going straight for Ulysses with its prize. "That is not alright!"